


Rome

by appleslovetea



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Military, Roman Empire, Slavery, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:32:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5866021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appleslovetea/pseuds/appleslovetea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Historical AU.<br/>Asami and Mikhail are high ranking generals in the warring Roman Empire, Fei Long is the Emperor, Kuroda is a Senator, and Akihito is taken prisoner whilst trying to protect his home from the enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I understand it might seem a bit stupid of me to place a bunch of characters with Japanese, Chinese and Russian names in a Roman Empire story, but oh well...just image how hot Asami would look in a roman military uniform. I mean, I just HAD to write this story! lol  
> Hope you enjoy reading it! :)

A sea of death spreads out in front of him as far as the eye can see.

 

From his position on the top of the hill he sees his men, the ones still strong enough to walk, navigating through the corpses trying to find survivors among their fallen comrades.

 

The battle was a violent one, perhaps the bloodiest so far in the Cimbrian War, and experience tells the general it will be long before these hills will be able to rid themselves of the stench of blood.

 

A lot of men died today. Battlefields are not playgrounds, after all. Not to mention his legion was at one point ambushed between the valley below and the large forest framing one side of it, caught between the crisscross of trees and the spears of their enemies.

 

He saw fear building up in the eyes of some of the younger soldiers then. The older more experienced ones, those who’d battled alongside him before, merely turned their heads towards him for guidance, knowing their leader would know what to do.

 

And he did know, as always. And as always he led his troops to victory, despite the number of casualties, despite the heavy costs. Another victory for his men means another victory for Rome. At least for one more day, the Empire remains intact...

 

The distinct sound of someone heaving close to him brings the general's mind back to the present. He turns his head in time to see a young man staggering, then dropping to his knees and vomiting the contents of what was no doubt his lastest meal.

 

The general quickly recognizes the youth in question as one of the men he’s seen roaming the battlefield looking for survivors.

 

Descending from his white mare, the older man walks slowly towards the soldier, the clinking sound of his metal armor alerting the latter to his presence.

 

The youth quickly scrambles to his feet, straightening his back as much as his beaten down armor will allow him. In the process, the other man notices the soldier’s limbs are covered in dried blood, not all of it likely to be his own.

 

“Name and rank, soldier.” The general demands, his voice firm.

 

“O-Oneda Kou, general. H-Hastati regiment.” The young man stammers.

 

The general frowns while looking at the youth more intently. The latter looks as though he’s trying his best not to throw up again.

 

“How old are you, boy?”

 

“…S-Sixteen, sir.” The youth retorts, surprised by the question.

 

“Is this your first battle?”

 

A faint blush appears on the youth’s cheeks. “Y-Yes, sir. It is.” He’s clearly embarrassed by the admonition.

 

The general sighs quietly. With the Senate recently lowering the minimum age for military enlistment, he fears he’ll soon be running a nursery. The soldiers being sent to him are getting younger by the week.

 

“Sit down and put your head between your knees, soldier.” He tells the youth. “Take deep breaths every couple of minutes. Your nose will get used to the stench of blood.”

 

“Y-Yes, general.” The boy replies, thankful for the suggestion.

 

The general's hand has already gripped the mare’s reins when he hears the soldier again from behind.

 

“They say you are not human.”

 

“What?” The man turns round frowning at the comment.

 

“S-Some of the men…they say you are a god. Mars' son. That that is why you know how the enemy thinks. That is why you win every time.”

 

Ah yes, that tall tale again. He’s heard it before, of course.

 

The general mounts his mare in silence, turning it in the direction of his legion's camp.

 

“I can assure you I’m human, boy.” He says over the shoulder to the youth.

 

Unlike him, gods are able to save the lives of the people they love.

 

(to be continued)


	2. Persuasion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for your feedback on the first chapter. Hope you enjoy this one! :)

The general can tell something is up the moment his mare passes through the large wooden gates of the military camp.

 

It’s not the commotion inside the camp that triggers the suspicion in him though. Such chaos is the norm following a battle, after all. Injured men being transported from tent to tent, slaves frantically running around carrying buckets of hot water and clean wound dressings. That’s to be expected.

 

No, something of a different nature is about and the general’s keen senses are quick to detect a foreign yet familiar presence somewhere in the premises.

 

He dismounts his mare, throwing its reins to a low rank soldier passing by, and starts walking towards his tent positioned in the center of the camp.

 

The general soon spots the richly ornate carriage and groomed horses stationed beside it, and suppresses the urge to sigh. He’s in no mood for politics today.  

 

“General Asami!” A familiar voice calls out to him from behind.

 

Asami Ryuichi, _legatus legionis_ of the Roman Empire, turns round, easily spotting his most trusted lieutenant as the latter runs towards him through the throng of people crowding the camp.

 

“Slow down, Kirishima.” He says when the man reaches his side, panting from the effort. “You shouldn’t be running around like that after such an exhausting battle.”

 

A bandage covers the lieutenant’s upper right arm, the white fabric already staining through with fresh blood, but the man does not seem to take notice of it. “I wanted to catch you before you reached your tent, general. Senator Kuroda is-“

 

“He’s here. Yes, I know. I just saw his carriage.” Asami finishes the sentence for him. “When did he arrive?” He asks, starting towards the tent again along with the lieutenant.

 

“Around the time the first wave of injured soldiers arrived from the battlefield. He’s been waiting inside your tent ever since.”

 

“Have you had a chance yet to assess the number of casualties on our side?”

 

Kirishima’s eyes grow dark. “Over two hundred…Most of them youngsters.”

 

He sees the general’s lips morph into a thin line at the revelation. He knows Asami is against placing inexperienced soldiers in the battlefield, but still he’s forced to comply with the orders from the Senate. For a moment it looks as though he’ll speak, but the general’s face soon regains back its usual collected composure.

 

“What about the enemy soldiers?” Asami asks, his voice seemingly detached. 

 

“Those who have surrendered are being guarded by the 2nd regiment at the edge of the camp. A total of 59 men. The rest were killed in battle.”

 

They stop in front of the tent’s entrance; the lieutenant silently awaiting his master’s orders regarding the fate of the remaining enemy troops.

 

“Once night falls, take them to the edge of the valley and release them there.”

 

Kirishima’s stunned expression acts as testimony to his surprise. He does not even attempt to hide the fact he altogether expected quite a different type of order from his superior.

 

“Enough blood has been spilled for one day, Kirishima. They lost the battle. Let the shame of it be their punishment. I’m not making any more widows today.”

 

A look of absolute respect flashes through the lieutenant’s eyes at that moment. It is attitudes such as this that cause him and the other men to be willing to die for Asami Ryuichi. Never has a nobler official led the Roman Empire’s army.

 

Asami watches as Kirishima soon disappears among the crowd, taking the direction of the prisoner enclosure.

 

He gives himself another minute before pulling aside the fabric that covers his tent’s entrance and walking inside it.

 

The interior of the tent is hardly fitting for a general of his rank. A simple cot covered in furs, a wooden table and chair, a clothes' trunk and a large water stone basin are all the luxuries Asami can stand to have inside his abode at the camp. Anything else was long ago deemed by him a useless frivolity and appropriately disposed of.

 

As soon as he enters his lodging, Asami ‘s eyes fall upon his friend Kuroda Shinji, who is busy leaning over a map spread out on top of the table; an interested look visible on his features as he studies it attentively. 

 

His friend’s look soon turns into one of shock though, as the young senator takes in Asami’s general appearance.

 

“By the gods, Ryuichi!” The man exclaims, immediately straightening up. “You look like a mess.”

 

The general can’t help but laugh out loud at the appalled expression on the other man’s face. He looks down, noticing for the first time the dirt, dried blood and grime covering his military uniform and exposed skin. “I suppose I’ve looked better.” He shrugs, pulling a hand through his dust filled hair.

 

“You are not injured, I hope?” Kuroda asks, while Asami begins to take off his uniform and red tunic underneath it, making his way towards the water basin at the center of the tent.

 

He’s butt naked by the time he reaches it and immerses his head in the crystalline water, pulling it back with one swift move that manages to splatter half of the tent with droplets of water.

 

“Still in one piece as you can see.” He replies humorously, turning towards his friend; his wet hair clinging to his face.

 

The display of nudity does not shock Kuroda one bit. The two men have known each other since boyhood, after all. They’ve seen each other’s naked bodies more times than any of them can count, to the point Asami’s current lack of modesty merely causes Kuroda to roll his eyes at him.

 

“Do tell, though. What has brought you here all the way from the Senate?... I am assuming this isn’t a social call, of course.” Asami says mockingly, while he picks up a bar of soap and starts to wash away the grime and blood from his skin.

 

“And _why,_ may I ask, should my visit have an ulterior motive?” The Senator retorts seemingly offended, picking up a parchment resting on the table and pretending to read its contents. “I haven’t seen you in over six months, Ryuichi. What’s the problem of paying an unannounced visit to a friend?”

 

Asami silently chuckles at the comment. “You’re truly a politician Kuroda, I’ll admit to that. You’re a liar all the way down to your bones.”

 

The Senator throws the parchment back on top of the table at the same time Asami drops a bucket of cold water over his head, rinsing the soap and foam from his hair and body.

 

“Oh, ok. Fine, you got me.” Kuroda admits. “I’m here on official business on behalf of the Emperor, ok?... Oh, do wipe that conceited grin off of your face, will you? I could never understand why I was never able to fool you. I’m able to fool everyone at the Senate as often as I wish, for crying out loud.”

 

“I know you far too well. We grew up together, remember?” Asami reminds, looking around for a clean towel so he can dry himself off.

 

As if on cue, a young slave enters the tent, carrying in his arms a freshly clean towel and a white tunic, swiftly handing the former to the general without uttering a word.

 

“And what does the mighty Emperor of Rome wish of his humble servant?”  Asami asks, drying off his torso and arms. “I suspect it won’t be anything to my liking, if he was willing to send you, of all people, to try to persuade me. He knows no one else is able to, after all.” He adds, frowning as he catches the slave staring at his naked body with no small amount of lust in his eyes.

 

Caught red handed, the young man blushes profusely, and quickly darting his eyes to the floor, hands the tunic to his master and disappears out of the tent as fast as his feet allow him.

 

Asami makes a mental note to later ask Kirishima to re-assign another servant to his tent. The last thing he needs is an infatuated young man with access to his tent trying to get inside his cot in the middle of the night, enticing him with sexual favors.

 

“Rome needs you, Ryuichi.” Kuroda’s words interrupt his thoughts.

 

Asami turns to look back at his friend, arching an eyebrow at him.

 

“Now more than ever.” The Senator continues. “There have been commotions at the Senate. It is said that an uprising is upon us.”

 

The general calmly puts on the white tunic, loosely wrapping it around his waist. “And what has any of that to do with me? I’m a military man, Kuroda. I leave theatrics to the Senate and to people like you. You and your politician friends are far more equipped than I to deal with the Senate’s ‘commotions’.”

 

“The Emperor is in need of you.” The Senator retorts, taking out a small rolled up papyrus from a fold hidden in his toga.

 

Asami immediately recognizes the imperial seal engraved on it with red lacquer.

 

“Emperor Fei Long requests a meeting with you.”

 

The general laughs ironically. “Emperor Fei Long _requests_ a meeting with me?”  

 

“Well,…more like _demands_ it. I was trying to sound polite.”

 

Asami purposely ignores the papyrus being presented to him, and instead walks towards his cot where he lays down munching on an apple he's taken from the fruit bowl placed on the table.

 

“I’m assuming the so-called _meeting_ is to take place at the Emperor’s palace in Rome.”

 

He hears Kuroda sighing, knowing his friend has anticipated from the get-go this to be a problem.

 

“You haven’t been to Rome in over two years, Ryuichi. Haven’t you punished yourself enough?”

 

A moment of silence ensues.

 

“…Fei Long still blames me for her death.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous! _No one_ but _yourself_ blames you for her death, Ryuichi.” His friend replies sternly. “And I’m sorry to tell you, but getting yourself killed on the battlefield is not going to bring her back. If anything, it will only manage to turn your son into more of an orphan than he already is.”

 

The mention of his child, the one person perpetually on his mind, despite his efforts against it, makes the muscles on Asami’s chest clench tightly with guilt. The general sits back up on his cot, his stare leveling with that of Kuroda’s.

 

Kuroda knows quite well he is pushing his luck; risking unleashing Asami’s wrath by using the kid as a means of persuasion, but still the politician in him presses on, one last time.

 

“If you can’t go back for the sake of Rome, at least go back for the sake of your boy, Ryuichi. Your own son should not have to learn about his father from military tales.”  

 

* * *

 

Later that day, as twilight approaches and Senator Kuroda has already started on the long journey back home to Rome, Asami can still be found inside his tent at the military camp positioned on the outskirts of Vercellae. He has, however, at this point, moved from his cot to the heavy wooden trunk beside it, where his personal belongings are safely kept while he’s away on the battlefield.

 

His hand, rummaging through the interior of the trunk, searches and searches, until his fingers finally brush against a soft piece of velvet.

 

He pulls the velvet cloth up and out of the depths of its ‘coffin’, soon uncovering the silver locket it hides inside its dark folds.

 

The piece of jewelry in question is far too plain to excite jealousy or greed in other men, but then again, such was never its intended purpose.

 

The treasure of this particular locket always lay _within_ it.

 

Asami runs his thumb across its side, as he’s done hundreds of times before, soon hearing the soft click of the locket opening and revealing its contents to him.

 

On its right side, an exquisite miniature of a young woman’s profile carved in porcelain is the only earthly reminder he’s been left with of the subject’s appearance.

 

On its left side, the tiniest lock of jet-black hair taken from a newborn’s head stands as testimony that the young woman’s death was most definitely not in vain.

 

Far from being a sentimental person, it’s nevertheless with unexpected difficulty that the powerful general eventually returns the locket to its resting place.

 

“Kirishima.” He calls out as he shuts the trunk’s lid, knowing his lieutenant to be just outside the tent, guarding its entrance.

 

“Yes, general?” The man salutes his superior respectfully as soon as he steps inside the tent.

 

“Tell the men to start dismantling camp, and to start accommodating the wounded as best they can. We leave for Rome in the morning.”  

 

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, the angst of it all! lol Akihito will show up starting from the next chapter btw. Until then, happy readings! ;)


	3. An Emperor's Request

The ornate military jacket which adorns the ceremony uniform of Rome’s high ranking generals is far from comfortable, making Asami suspect its designer has never once set foot on a battlefield.

 

If said individual ever does, he will be quick to understand that freedom of movement is a key element of survival when engaging in man-to-man combat, and that his creation, despite being fashionably looking is also, for lack of better words, a death trap.

 

Practical considerations apart, Asami cannot deny that the majestic build of the piece and its many gold and silver intricate accents is extremely effective in coercing a look of respect from any onlooker that comes across it.

 

The general witnesses this power firsthand, as he walks down the main corridor of Rome’s Imperial Palace on his way towards the Emperor’s audience room.

 

Senators and servants alike instantly halt their actions to stare at the general as the latter walks past them. Some are struck dumb and silent while others, sporting a more viperous tongue, don’t lose any time in whispering judgments in each other ears. None, however, seem to be indifferent to Asami’s presence.

 

The subject of such undivided attention is being modest though, for it isn’t the uniform he wears nor the rank it represents that excites jealousy and greed in the hearts of the other men. Many there are who wear the same uniform after all, but nearly none can claim to have a résumé as rich as that of general Asami Ryuichi.

 

No. It is the man itself that they all envy; be it his looks, his god-like physique, his wealth, his rumored list of lovers, the degree of fear the mere mention of his name produces behind enemy lines; all of which contributing to make the general one of the most secretly beloved (as well as hated) citizens of Rome.

 

Having grown-up in the capital city and being well accustomed to the venomous ways of its inhabitants, Asami has long ago developed his own defense mechanisms against them, and so it is with ease that he ignores the whispering sounds reaching his ears at the moment.

 

He knows that his unexpected return to Rome is bound to cause a stir,... not to mention the birth of more than a few new rumors, but such does not preoccupy him in the least. It’s been a very long time indeed since Asami decided to turn a deft ear to the stories circulating through the capital about him,…despite the glimmer of truth connected to some of them.

 

The general stops short of a pair of massive doors guarded by two soldiers who salute him just before pushing them open and announcing his presence to the crowd on the other side.

 

The faintest smell of opium wafts from inside the room and the general finds himself trying hard not to grin… It seems the Emperor is still addicted to the drug from the East… Something’s never change.

 

The audience room is crowded, as it is to be expected; Emperor Fei Long favors being surrounded by people.  “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer” is a saying as old as time, after all. And a particular relevant saying at that, if one wishes to live to experience old age in an ever changing city such as Rome.

 

Quickly scanning the premises, the general easily recognizes several members of the Senate scattered about in small groups, immersed in what are no doubt pointless political arguments.

 

A few military men can also be found about, but unlike the former, the military elite does not seem to be concerned with the need to discuss particular businesses related to their profession. Instead, most can be found lounging around, enjoying the live music provided by a duo of talented harpists, or simply engaging in idle conversation with each other over a goblet of fine wine. Rome is the military’s playground, after all; a place where they are meant to wind down and forget about the cruelty of the world outside the city’s walls.

 

Asami’s comrades salute him respectfully as soon as he enters the audience room; his latest crushing victory at Vercellae still fresh in their minds.

 

The general returns the salute, once again choosing to ignore the malicious stares of the Senate members, who deeming him a subject of interest, decide to take a momentary break from their political debates to grin contemptuously at him.

 

Senator Kuroda, also in attendance, unknowingly ends up saving his colleagues the embarrassment of being put in their place by lieutenant Kirishima Key, who following close behind his general, does not take the viperous attitudes of the senators towards Asami as  lightly as his superior.

 

A quick wave of Kuroda’s hand causes Asami (and Kirishima in tail) to direct their steps towards the senator and away from the offensive groups of men.

 

Kuroda is sitting on a plush chaise longue right to the left of the Emperor, and as soon as Asami sees his friend he grins despite himself.

 

It’s not like he didn’t anticipate finding Kuroda close to the Emperor. In his mind, the young man has no doubt spent the last couple of hours making use of his politician skills to bring forth the Emperor’s best diplomatic qualities, in an effort to prevent the latter from butting heads with his general friend. After all, Asami Ryuichi is well known for having a hazardous effect on Emperor Fei Long’s usual calm temper.

 

Asami’s eyes soon lock with those of the Emperor, but then he senses more than sees someone familiar from the corner of his eye, and he can’t help but redirect his stare that way.

 

He notices at first a flash of blond hair amongst the crowd, then finally a pair of piercing brown eyes framing a face deemed by many to be so beautiful, all consider it to be a waste on the military.

 

Lieutenant Sudou Shuu has trouble hiding the shy smile that appears on his lips when he notices Asami has finally acknowledged him among the throng of officials; his eyes eagerly returning the general’s stare.

 

The moment in question lasts but a brief second though. Asami soon turns his face back towards the Emperor; his jaw clutched tightly.

 

He can’t help but feel irritated with himself, knowing he should have anticipated the other man’s presence in the room, that he should have prepared himself for it, and that the exchange that has just taken place, albeit brief, will  no doubt come back to haunt him.

 

And he’s right, for as soon as Asami regards the Emperor’s face and notices the latter’s mischievous smile, he knows that Fei Long too has took notice of the exchange.

 

A dark suspicion crosses Asami’s mind then. Is Sudou’s presence at the audience room today perhaps more than a mere coincidence? Has Fei Long purposely facilitated the occurrence in an attempt to try to vex the general in public? After all, Asami knows from past experience that the Emperor enjoys games of this kind.

 

Well, he’s not about to give the man the satisfaction of seeing him perturbed in any way that’s for sure, and so the general’s countenance, as he formally salutes the Emperor, is as composed as it was as when he first entered the audience room.

 

“Rome salutes your return, general.” The Emperor says, his voice silencing all others. “It has been long since you have paid your birth city a visit.”

 

Asami is not a naïve man, and so does not fail to understand the underlying accusation hidden in Fei Long’s words.

 

“The battlefield has unfortunately kept me away for too long.” Asami replies, trying to sound polite.

 

An amused chuckle nevertheless reaches his ear. “The battlefield, you say?” He hears the Emperor say, more to himself than to anyone else.

 

When Asami straightens his back, his eyes narrowing, ready to lash out at the other man despite all rules of imperial etiquette, he’s surprised to find the Emperor rising his wine goblet in his direction.

 

“A toast.” He commands, causing all others across the room to mimic his action in unison. “To general Asami’s priceless victories in the Cimbrian War, and to the many glories they have brought the Roman Empire.”

 

A moment of silence ensues as all the men drink from their goblets in the general’s honor.

 

“Now leave us.” The Emperor suddenly orders out loud. “I have much catching up to do with our esteemed general…Two years of absence is indeed a long time.”  He adds, again more to himself than to any listener.

 

The crowd obeys his command immediately. The Emperor’s words are law after all.

 

One by one the dignitaries exit the room, the noise of their chatter subsiding as they disappear out of the main audience room doors.

 

Senator Kuroda is among them, but before he follows his colleagues he still has time to shoot a pleading look towards Asami, which the latter interprets as a silent request for him to behave accordingly in front of the Emperor for once.

 

Save for a couple of Fei Long’s devoted personal servants, he and Asami are soon left alone, the former motioning with his hand towards the chaise longue previously occupied by Kuroda.

 

“Sit.” He says with a neutral tone. “You must be tired from your long journey.”

 

He claps his hands once, the echo of the sound loud enough for his staff stationed outside the room to hear.

 

Asami soon notices a fit young man, elegantly dressed, immerging from a side door whilst carrying a heavy tray with a wine flagon and a gold goblet balanced on it.

 

It is only when the youth halts beside him, pouring the wine into the goblet and then handing it to Asami, that the general is able to recognize him.

 

“Tao!” The general exclaims.

 

The youth flushes under Asami’s surprised look.

 

“Good day, general. I wasn’t expecting you to recognize me.”

 

“I barely did. You’ve grown into a fine young man, Tao. How old are you now?”

 

 “I’ll be turning nineteen next month, general.”

 

Asami looks at the youth from head to toe, noticing the fine build of the boy’s upper torso. “Do you still practice archery?”

 

Tao’s face lights up with pride. “Every day, general.”

 

“Tao!” The Emperor’s crisp voice interrupts the casual conversation.

 

The young man blushes even more as his eyes meet his Emperor’s. Oddly enough, as soon as Fei Long looks into the youth’s innocent ones, all the edge previously noticeable in his voice disappears. “That will be enough, Tao.” He says calmly. “You may go now.”

 

“Yes, Fei- Emperor.” The inadvertent slip is almost imperceptible to Asami’s ears.

 

Almost.

 

As Tao exits the room, the general cannot help but tease his superior.

 

“He’d make a fine soldier, Tao. He has the build of one.”

 

“Don’t you even _dream_ of ever suggesting that to him!”

 

“I don’t see why not. I could use strong youngsters like him in my legion-“

 

“Asami!” The Emperor warns, unamused by the banter.

 

The general snorts. “So are you actually in love with the kid, or did you just turn him into your lover so you could save him from being drafted by the Senate into the military?... Not even the Senate would dream of touching Tao if they were aware he’s your lover.”

 

The general watches as Fei Long’s lips morph into a thin line. He knows the man is trying very hard at the moment not to lose his temper.

 

“If you are pissed off about the new recruitment age law, you should know I had nothing to do with it. It was entirely the Senate’s doing.”

 

“With your stamp of approval, let’s not forget.”

 

“I had _no_ saying on the matter, Asami!”

 

“Really? And here I was thinking you were the god damned _Emperor_ of the Roman Empire.”

 

Fei Long flinches, clutching the side of his goblet so tightly his knuckles turn white. “...I see you remain as insufferable as ever, Asami.”

 

Asami grins contemptuously. “The observation is mutual, I assure you.”

 

By now even Fei Long’s servants are exchanging worried looks, wondering whether or not it's advisable to summon into the room some sort of mediator. The last quarrel they witnessed between the two men in front of them nearly ended up in a fist fight after all.

 

The biggest blow is still to be delivered though, and for once it’s the Emperor who’s responsible for it.

 

“You know, in a way it is fortunate my sister has passed away. I doubt she could have stood your _charming_ personality for much longer without going mad... Although to be frank, I still to this day cannot phantom what it was that she saw in you in the first place.”

 

Fei Long says so without really pondering the weight of the observation.  It’s only when he notices a dark cloud falling over Asami’s features that he realizes just how much his words have wounded the other man.

 

“…Why did you agree to marry her in the first place, Asami? You weren’t in love with my sister when you agreed to it, that much was evident.”

 

The general shoots the Emperor a stern look.

 

“Because you ordered me to marry her, remember?”

 

The Emperor returns the look in much the same way.

 

“I needed an heir.” Asami confesses then, closing his eyes for a moment. “What difference did it make whom I married?”

 

 “And yet you have failed to acknowledge your heir from the moment he was born.” Fei Long snickers. “…Mayu was indeed a fool to fall in love with you, Asami…and you were an even bigger fool to think you were falling in love with her.”

 

Asami slowly opens his eyes again, leveling them with the Emperor’s. “Did you really summon me back just to discuss family matters, Fei Long? Because if you did, I have more important things to do with my time,… like commanding a legion.”

 

He’s already on his way up from the chaise when Fei Long’s voice stops him. “General Arbatov...” He hears Fei Long say with a tired sigh.

 

“…What about Mikhail?” Asami asks, sitting back down for the time being. It has been awhile since he’s heard the name in question.

 

“I have been receiving some… _distressing_ reports from my spies regarding general Arbatov’s recent conduct in Britannia.”

 

“What do you mean by _distressing_ reports exactly?”

 

“It seems general Arbatov’s regiments have been, under his command, engaging in unnecessary quarrels with the local populations…amongst other things.”

 

Asami can’t help but narrow his eyes at the cryptic comment. “Spare me the unnecessary crap, Fei Long. What’s going on in Britannia?”

 

It doesn’t take a clairvoyant to figure out the Emperor feels uncomfortable discussing the subject. “According to my spies,” He starts nonetheless. “General Arbatov and his soldiers have been kidnapping young men from the local towns. Those who Mikhail does not torture to death or keep as sex slaves for himself and his men, he ships to the continent to appointed sex trade sellers. The proceeds of the sales go directly to the Arbatov family... My spies report that this has been going on for several months now.”

 

Asami’s lips morph into a thin line. He can’t say he finds the news at all surprising, knowing General Arbatov’s rumored proclivities.

 

“Call him back, then. End his mission in Britannia.”

 

The Emperor laughs ironically at the suggestion. “I’m afraid you’ve been away from Rome for far too long Asami. Have you forgotten that the Arbatovs control half of the Senate at the moment? How do you think Senator Yuri Arbatov would react if I were to pull his precious nephew out of his throne in Britannia on accusations based on mere rumors.”

 

The general quickly sees the Emperor’s point. “He’d cause a riot, no doubt.” Asami admits.

 

“And we all know that riots in this city don’t tend to end well…” Fei Long adds with a meaningful look.

 

For the first time since his conversation with Kuroda back at Vercellae, Asami realizes his friend might be rightfully concerned about the Senate’s most recent theatricals.

 

An uprising looks indeed to lurk in the horizon and judging by Fei Long’s perceived apprehension, even the Emperor’s throne seems to be on the line this time.

 

Asami looks at his brother-in-law’s composed face, and chuckles unamusedly. Everything is starting to make sense to him now.

 

“You want me to go to Britannia, don’t you?” He asks, albeit already guessing the answer. “That’s why you summoned me back.”

 

For once, the mighty Emperor’s features seem to soften.

 

“Yes.” He replies, and the word is spoken with no authority. As if instead of giving an order, the Emperor is asking the other man for help.

 

“I need you to get to the bottom of the rumors, Asami. And if worse comes to pass...”

 

Fei Long doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to. The general knows well how to fill in the word gap.

 

“Why me?” Asami asks nevertheless.

 

“…Because aside from his uncle, you are the only man on the face of the Earth who Mikhail Arbatov respects.“

 

The older man can’t help but grimace. Being respected by someone as sick and deviant as general Arbatov doesn’t particularly fill him with a sense of pride.

 

He closes his eyes, contemplating the mission being requested of him.

 

“Asami, you know very well that if I send anyone else, I will be sending that person to his grave. Mikhail already suspects I’m on to something…”

 

“Alright…” The general says, turning his gaze back to Fei Long. “What’s the plan?”

 

* * *

 

 

An hour later, Asami exits the audience room to find Kirishima diligently waiting for him on the hall outside.

 

“Where to this time, general?” The lieutenant asks in a low voice, knowing his superior’s meeting with the Emperor has no doubt resulted in new assignment orders for the legion.

 

“…Britannia.”

 

“Britannia? !” Kirishima repeats, unable to mask his surprise. “But that territory is under-“

 

“General Arbatov’s jurisdiction. Yes,… I know.”

 

The lieutenant contemplates the information in silence for a few moments. “Are we then to engage in battle with general Arbatov’s troops?”

 

“No…At least, not yet.” Asami answers cryptically. They start moving towards the exit; their voices still low so as to not attract the attention of potential eavesdroppers.

 

“The Emperor has ordered me to assess the current situation in Londinium and to get to the bottom of the rumors regarding Arbatov’s recent conduct there.” Asami informs.

 

He sees how Kirishima grimaces instantly at the words. “I have heard some of the rumors myself.” The lieutenant says, shaking his head in disapproval.

 

“Which is why I will be travelling into Londinium alone.”

 

For a moment, the lieutenant can’t help but to suspect that the opium fumes he’s smelled earlier inside the Emperor’s audience room have somehow managed to cloud the general’s judgment.

 

“You can’t be serious, sir!”

 

“Think, Kirishima.” Asami replies sternly. “If I march into Londinium with the entire legion at my back Arbatov will immediately suspect something’s up… No, the legion will travel as far as Caletum. As soon as they set up camp there, I’ll resume the journey alone into Britannia.”

 

An unmistakable look of panic suddenly washes over Kirishima’s features. He fears it’s too late to convince Asami of the madness of his plan. It looks as though the man’s mind is already set on it, and when Asami Ryuichi decides on a course of action to take, not even the gods can make him change his mind.

 

“I cannot possibly let you travel alone to Londinium, general.” Kirishima nevertheless tries to appeal to his superior’s reasoning. “It is far too dangerous! General Arbatov is-“

 

“...a homicidal maniac, for lack of better words.” Asami says, guessing what the lieutenant is thinking. “But he’s a homicidal maniac with 300,000 well rested soldiers under his command…Kirishima, I hardly think I need to remind you that our legion has been put through hell at Vercellae over the past two years. The troops are tired, not to mention we’ve suffered considerable casualties on the last two battles. I will not expose my men’s lives to further threat unless it is strictly necessary. The legion will remain in Caletum until, and _if_ , I summon them.”

 

The general notices that his subordinate is about speak up again and so beats him to it. “I’ll take Yoh with me but that’s it…Do you honestly think I cannot handle Mikhail Arbatov by myself?”

 

The lieutenant sighs, apparently resigned. “Of course not, sir…So what is the decoy strategy?”

 

“A joint attack on Caledonia. I am to meet Arbatov in secrecy in order to lay out a strategy for a future attack. A messenger from the Emperor has already left for Britannia with the official missive informing Arbatov I’m to be expected at Londinium soon.” Asami related. “We leave in two days. Tell the men to rest until then. Also, I’m putting you in charge of the legion as soon as we reach Caletum. Once Yoh and I continue on our way, I’ll keep you posted on our progress through the Emperor’s spies in the area.” He places a firm hand on the other man’s shoulder, trying to encourage the lieutenant. “I’m counting on you, Kirishima.”

 

“General Asami.” A hopeful albeit somewhat unsteady voice interrupts the conversation between the two.

 

Asami turns round to find Sudou Shuu appearing from behind one of the marble columns that decorate the main corridor of the Imperial palace.

 

It’s quite clear the young man has been waiting for the general there since leaving the audience room earlier on.

 

“I was wondering if I could have a word with you...” The blond man says, casting a quick sideways glance at Kirishima. ”…in private.”

 

Asami looks back at his lieutenant, but the latter is already saluting him in retreat. “I’ll be waiting for you outside, general.”

 

The older man waits until his subordinate is out of sight before turning his attention back to the blond man, who soon approaches him, albeit cautiously.

 

“I wanted to congratulate you personally on your victories at Vercellae.” Sudou says.

 

He looks so nervous that the general consciously makes an effort to suppress a smile; the tension he felt earlier on when first seeing the younger man, easing up ever so slightly.

 

“Thank you for your words.” The general says, making sure no trace of emotion is detectable in his voice. “…How have you been, lieutenant? I haven’t seen you since the battle of Lutetia.”

 

A faint blush appears on the younger man’s cheeks at the mention of the location. He quickly averts his stare from the general, choosing instead to glance at the fine marble floor tiles between them.

 

“It would please me greatly if you could do me the kindness of forgetting my poor performance on that battlefield. I did not honor my uniform that day, of that I am well aware.” Sudou says bitterly, biting down his lower lip as memories of the battle in question flood his mind. “After all, if you had not come to my rescue and to the rescue of the men I so shamefully led in battle that day…”     

 

“You’re being too hard on yourself, as usual. You fought bravely that day.”

 

Nothing short of a shock wave runs down Sudou’s spine when he unexpectedly feels Asami’s hand cupping his chin, gently tilting it to the side so that the faint scar running along the blond man’s  jawline comes into view.

 

“The scar healed well.” Asami remarks as he slides his thumb along the marred skin. “It’s barely noticeable now.”

 

The general only realizes the consequences of the unconscious gesture when he feels Sudou’s body suddenly tremble under his touch.

 

Before he has a chance to pull his hand away though, he finds it secured in place by the younger man’s much smaller one.

 

A look of longing mixed with despair is visible in the lieutenant’s eyes, as the latter finally looks back at Asami.

 

“Can I see you again…tonight?”

 

The straightforwardness of the question surprises Asami. Surely the only reason Sudou is taking such liberties in public is due to the fact that the corridor is miraculously deserted at the moment.

 

Each second that drags on in silence feels like a blade cutting through Sudou’s heart. Despite his better judgment, the young lieutenant soon takes a step closer to the general, decreasing the already short distance separating them.

 

“I’ve been worried sick about you.” Sudou starts; his voice noticeably shaking. “News from Vercellae were so scarce. And then that stupid rumor started going about, claiming you had been killed in battle and that the Imperial Palace was refusing to acknowledge it only to discourage the enemy from further attacks at the battlefront. I nearly went mad with worry…” His voice finally breaks; the memory of the agony he’s been through still too fresh in the lieutenant’s mind.

 

“Sudou…” Asami intended his voice to sound stern, but instead something resembling pity is noticeable in his tone. Perhaps due to that fact, the other man’s eyes fill with hope.

 

“I-I can stop by your estate tonight. I can pretend I have some official message to deliver to yo-“

 

“Enough, Sudou.” Asami cuts him off sternly.

 

The sound of his voice is so harsh it surprises the lieutenant, who finally let’s go of the hold he has over Asami’s hand.

 

The general however refuses to feel moved by the other man’s sudden shaken expression.

 

 It’s clear Sudou is about to speak, and so Asami beats him to it.

 

“It’s over, Sudou.” He says, even though he knows his words have the potential to kill the other man. “Whatever happened between us in the past. It’s over now.”

 

“…You don’t mean that.” The young man mumbles quietly, his eyes widening in shock.

 

Asami’s silence is a clear indicator of the opposite though and soon Sudou is driven into despair.

 

“Asami…” He pleads, reaching out for the general again.

 

The sound of footsteps approaching them puts an end to the meeting. Sudou’s arms still linger in the air for a brief second, but he’s forced to pull them back and to hastily walk away without attracting attention to himself.

 

The general is left to stare at the young man’s retreating form, knowing him to be heartbroken.

 

Why is it that he ends up hurting everyone who cares about him?

 

* * *

 

 

"-ichi."

 

The voice reaches him as if from the far end of a deep cave.

 

"-yuichi."

 

The general is so immersed in his own thoughts that it takes a while for the sound to register in his ears.

 

"Ryuichi!" Kuroda practically shouts at him this time around.

 

The senator's latest attempt to rouse his friend from the apparent stupor the latter has fallen under works... somewhat. After five minutes of trying to get Asami's attention, Kuroda has at least managed to get the general's eyes to focus on him instead of on the goblet of wine in the older man's hand.

 

"I assume you haven't heard a single word I have said..."

 

It’s a statement, not a question. One that is rapidly confirmed by the general's silence.

 

Kuroda sighs resigned. "Never mind. I was just letting you in on the latest scandal over at the Senate. I doubt it would interest you in any way."

 

When the same aloof look as before threatens to take hold of the general again, Kuroda frowns concerned.

 

"What's the matter with you, Ryuichi? It's not like you to look so distracted." He observes. In truth, he's noticed Asami's unusual absentmindedness all throughout dinner and is beginning to wonder why his friend has invited him over to his estate for a meal and drinks. It's more than obvious to him that Asami is in no mood to talk.

 

"It can't be due to the meeting with the Emperor, I'm sure.” Kuroda ventures. “After all, none of you ended up losing your temper this time."

 

The inquisitive look Asami gives his friend causes the latter to elaborate on his latest comment.

 

"Well, I confess I stuck around for a while chatting with Kirishima outside the audience room... You know, just in case you suddenly felt tempted to lose your temper and to start yelling at the Emperor...like you did last time."

 

Kuroda hears more than noticed the general huff under his breath at the remark.

 

"Huff all you want, Ryuichi. You have no idea of the degree of trouble I went through to muffle down the rumors concerning the last argument between the two of you. Imagine if the Senate had gotten hold of the news that the two of you had argued like a couple of brats. Why if it hadn't been for the Emperor's servants stepping in between you at the time, the argument would have ended in a fist figh-"

 

"I'm really not in the mood for one of your sermons, Kuroda." Asami answers, with uncharacteristic gloom. "...Not tonight."

 

The senator narrows his eyes at the other man, a sudden suspicion forming in his mind.

 

"...Well, it's not the new mission that is messing with your mind, that's for sure. Arbatov and his men do not frighten you in the slightest... Which leaves us with only other alternative that would account for your strange behavior tonight..."

 

"Drop it, Kuroda… For once, just drop it."

 

"...What did Sudou tell you this morning that knocked you so much off balance?"

 

The look of utter surprise that momentarily flashes over the general's features nearly causes Kuroda to laugh out loud. It’s rare indeed to catch the great Asami Ryuichi off guard.

 

The look in question ends up lasting only a couple of seconds though. Soon the usual collected countenance that the general is famous for comes to his aid, creating a perfect mask of composure between him and the outside world.

 

To a stranger, it would appear that the question has had no effect on the general. None at all.

 

Kuroda Shinji is not a stranger though.

 

"I saw Sudou hiding behind a column outside the audience room while I was talking to Kirishima." The senator explains. "It was pretty obvious he was waiting for a chance to talk to you personally...Judging by your aloof behavior tonight, I'm assuming he was successful in his endeavor..."

 

He notices the general shift uncomfortably in his chair.

 

"He just wanted to congratulate me on the legion's victories at Vercellae, that's all." Asami replies sternly, which causes his friend to arch an eyebrow at him.

 

"That's all, huh?..." Kuroda smirks, somewhat mischievously. "Well, I'm glad to know Sudou had a chance to see firsthand you are safe and sound then. Maybe now he'll stop pestering me to give him news about you whenever he sees me."

 

"...What do you mean?"

 

"Oh, did I never mention it to you? Sudou Shuu has been stalking me for months now, in order to get news regarding your well-being...You should have seen how pale and dispirited he used to look whenever news arrived regarding a new battle at the Vercellae front. I heard his family were pressuring him to consult several physicians, worried sick as they were about Sudou's health. No one seems to have been smart enough to ever make the obvious connection though. No one appears to have ever figured out that his sudden health improvements coincided perfectly with the arrival of the news regarding your victories on the battlefield..."

 

For once, Asami's mask of perfect composure cracks. "Shit." He curses under his breath, pulling a hand through his hair.

 

"You do realize Sudou is still completely infatuated with you, don't you?"

 

The general sighs tiredly. "...I was hoping the distance might have-"

 

This time Kuroda does laugh out loud. "Oh please, Ryuichi. It's not like you to be that naive. Sudou worships you. He always did. Granted, in my opinion the man is an idiot for it. To think he kept on loving you even after you were married, for crying out loud.  But do you really think that something as shallow as 'distance' would somehow numb his feelings for you?"

 

The general's silence answers for him.

 

"So, what are you planning to do about him?"

 

Again, the senator is greeted with nothing but silence.

 

"...Don't tell me you have feelings for him?"

 

To this Asami shakes his head, a weary smile marrying his lips.

 

"Sudou… is a mistake from my past. I now recognize that...If I'd had known the depth of his feelings for me, I wouldn't have involved myself with him in the first place. Plus..."

 

A dark shadow suddenly falls over his eyes. One that his senator friend knows all too well.

 

"Oh please, Ryuichi. Not that story again! Mayu suspected Sudou was your lover long before you married her. Do give her a bit more credit, will you? Your list of lovers at the time was as famous as your list of victories on the battlefield."

 

"…She saw us.”

 

“What?”

 

“Mayu saw us. The night before she died."

 

Kuroda arches an eyebrow at his friend. “What do you mean, she _saw_ you?”

 

“…She saw us together…She saw us...kissing.” Asami admits; the intrigued look on his friend’s face causing him to elaborate further. “Sudou had a jealous fit,… he showed up out of the blue at the estate. I couldn’t get him to leave. He was shouting, causing a scene, waking up everyone.”

 

“That’s quite unlike him.” Kuroda interjects intrigued. “Was he drunk?”

 

Asami chuckles. “Very much so. He could never handle alcohol all that well… Anyway, I tried to reason with him. Get him to calm down...”

 

“Hm, let me guess. He told you he wouldn’t leave unless you kissed him.”

 

A rare look of embarrassment clouds the general’s features. “Yes…” He admits quietly, taking the wine goblet to his lips.

 

Kuroda has to stop himself from laughing out loud. “You know, for someone known to be as ruthless as you are on the battlefield, it is quite surprising to learn how indulgent you can be with your lovers.”

 

He chooses to ignore the stern look the general shoots his way.

 

"Oh come on Ryuichi, I hardly think that seeing the two of you kiss is what caused Mayu to die in childbirth.”

 

Somehow the senator suspects that his friend does not partake of the same opinion.

 

“How is little Ryu anyway? It’s been a couple of weeks since Ai and I last saw him.” He asks, changing the subject in an attempt to lighten Asami’s dark mood.

 

His effort is rewarded with a genuine smile. “He’s strong.” The general says with pride. “He’s already tall for his age. And quite talkative. His nurse says he’s constantly ordering people around.”

 

Kuroda laughs. “Like father, like son then.” He’s about to add something else, but soon notices the general’s mood has become clouded again.  

 

“What is it Ryuichi?”

 

“This new mission…” Asami says cryptically.

 

“What about it?”

 

“...If I don’t come back this time…”

 

“Oh for crying out loud, Ryuichi! Of course you’ll come back. You always do.”

 

“Kuroda.” The dead seriousness of the general’s voice causes a chill to run down his friend’s spine. “If I don’t come back this time…”

 

The senator straightens his back in his chair; voice also dead serious. “Then I vow to raise your son with Ai as if he was one of our own children,… rest assured Ryuichi.”

 

The ghost of a smile appears on Asami’s lips as he leans his head against his plush chair and closes his eyes for a moment. “Thank you, my friend.”

 

* * *

 

It’s far later in the evening, when Asami finally makes his way down the silent hallway of his home towards his private quarters, the candelabra in his hand illuminating the path in front of him.

 

Kuroda has long since left for his own home and the security of his blissful family life, the servants have long ago been dismissed for the day, Rome has long since succumbed to sleep, but the general is still too eerie to follow in on the example.

 

His mind still hasn’t adjusted to the fact that he is back and it is with little surprise that he realizes that he feels far more comfortable in his modest tent at Vercellae than surrounded by all the riches that adorn his Rome estate.

 

He’s just about set down the candelabra by the nightstand located next to his massive bed, ten times bigger than the cot where he usually sleeps in at camp, when a noise out on the room’s balcony catches his attention.

 

His hand flies to the dagger he keeps hidden under his tunic almost immediately, and it is with silent, but calculated steps that the general approaches the source of the sound, his eyes narrowing like those of a predator, as he notices the shadow of a man undulating beyond the curtains that frame the open windows.

 

An assassin, perhaps?

 

It wouldn’t be the first one.

 

Quietly, Asami positions himself flat against the gap between the windows and waits, dagger raised and ready to attack.

 

It takes another minute or so, but he finally sees a hand pushing the curtains aside.

 

The general reacts immediately, his free hand shooting towards the foreign wrist, twisting it, jerking the body connected to it forward and slamming it back against the wall space he previously occupied, the dagger coming up fast with the intent to slice open the intruder’s throat.

 

The yell Asami hears is all that stops the blade from sinking into the intruder’s flesh.

 

He knows that voice.

 

Quickly, Asami spins the intruder around, the hood concealing the man’s face falling backwards, revealing a pair of frightened brown eyes.

 

The dagger slips from Asami’s hand to the ground.

 

“Sudou!” He mumbles surprised, but the surprise soon turns to anger as the general grabs hold of the other man’s upper arms, shaking him. “I could have killed you just now. Are you out of your mind?”    

 

The blond man looks deep into the general’s eyes, lips trembling. “...Yes.” He answers shakily, as he pulls Asami down by the front of his tunic, pouring all the longing he’s felt for the latter in a passionate kiss.

 

For once, the general does not push him away.  

 

* * *

 

Far, far away, on the outskirts of a Roman fortress in Londinium, two young men stare at the uniformed sentinels patrolling the upper level of the enemy enclosure, waiting for a sign from their comrades that have already snuck inside that it is ok for them to move.

 

“This is madness, Akihito.” One of them says, unable to control the shivers that rack through his body.

 

The night is cold and they are dressed too lightly for the harsh weather conditions; clothed with weapons rather than with fabrics.

 

“We have no choice.” His friend replies, strapping a pair of daggers around his waist. “The Romans will surely move them in the morning. You know we’re no match for them during day time.”

 

His friend blushes, thankful for the darkness surrounding them. “I know…but if they catch us too…”

 

Akihito gulps. He knows what it is that his friend is thinking. They are both young, well built, exactly the type general Arbatov preys upon. He can only imagine the type of ‘torture’ that Roman scumbag would have in place for young men like them.

 

He shakes his head, resolve in place. “Your brother is in there too, Takato.” He reminds his friend. “This is our last chance to free him.”

 

Takato nods silently, the notion giving him strength.

 

Their attention is suddenly called upon by a strange owl cry, one they recognize as being fake.

 

They both look at the fortress again, soon noticing the sentinels are nowhere to be seen.

 

Akihito narrows his eyes, soon spotting one of their comrades in the exact place where one of the sentinels was previously positioned. The other man clutches his hands in front of his mouth and gives out the owl signal again.

 

“It’s time.” Akihito says, and repeats the signal in return, while Takato waves to the dozen men hiding in the trees behind them, calling them forth.

 

The moonless sky conceals their short trip towards the wooden doors of the fortress and they use their collective strenght to silently push them open, just enough to allow them to go in one by one.

 

They ignore the bloodied bodies of the Roman soldiers their comrades have already killed, stepping over them. From then on their mission progresses in the utmost silence.

 

They know where the prisoners are being held. Two of them stay behind to guard the escape route, while the others advance stealthily through the dormant camp.

 

Luckily for them, tonight the Romans have thrown a feast in the honor of the god of wine Bacchus, an excuse they give themselves to get drunk on duty, and so the majority of the legionaries that are meant to be on guard tonight, are in a far too comatose state to pose a threat to the invaders.

 

Even so, Akihito’s hands are tightly secure around sword, his eyes trained to catch the slightest movement as he makes his way further into camp with Takato in tail.

 

As drunk as the Romans are tonight, not all of them seem to have neglected their duties, for the prisoners have been made ready and are found already fettered together by the stables, waiting to be put into a jailed wagon once morning comes.

 

Takato’s young brother, one of the few prisoners awake at the time, is the first to notice their arrival, and he nearly blows their cover by calling out his brother’s name out loud.

 

Thankfully his voice is so hoarse that it barely sounds higher than a whisper.

 

Akihito stands guard along with another comrade, as Takato and two others start working on freeing the prisoners’ bound hands and feet.

 

All seems to be going as planned but then out of the blue they hear a Roman battle horn being blown. The horn sounds but for a few seconds, its owner soon succumbing to the ground; an arrow driven strategically through his neck, but those few seconds are enough to rise the Romans from their stupor.

 

Candle lights start flashing all throughout camp, the clashing of metal on metal approaching the group of prisoners and invaders along with the sound of heavy footsteps.

 

Akihito looks nervously about, watching as Takato struggles to free the last of the prisoners.

 

“To the doors.” He tells the others. “Run!”

 

He quickly covers the distance that separates him from Takato and they both manage to free a boy of no more than fourteen from the shackles that bound his feet.

 

“Quickly, run!” Akihito tells them, and they all make for the fortress' main doors, as the first group of legionaries appears at a curb, armed to their teeth.

 

It takes them about to seconds to realize what just happened, and even less to throw their sharp spears in the direction of the fugitives.

 

Akihito and the others run for their lives, dodging arrows and spears and drunken Romans alike on their way towards freedom.

 

Fifty feet from the doors though, Akihito hears an agonizing scream behind him. He turns round in time to see Takato falling to his knees, an arrow stuck on his lower back.

 

His brother screams, turning round to catch him before the pain prostrates Takato on the floor. The other boy, runs too towards his savior, supporting him on the other side.

 

When Akihito reaches the group too, Takato is panting for breath.

 

“Can you move?” Akihito asks, hearing the footsteps of the angry Romans approaching them fast.

 

Takato stands up with the help of the two boys, slowly and agonizingly stepping forward. “Leave me.” He says resigned. “Save yourselves. I’ll only slow you down.”

 

His brother clutches on to him in desperation. “Brother, don’t say such things.”

 

Akihito grips his sword tighter. “Go.” He tells the youngsters. “Take him away. I’ll stall the Romans.”

 

“Akihito, no!” Takato says, his voice weakened by pain.

 

“Go, now!” Akihito yells, as his friend collapses over the two boys, who carry him as quickly as they can towards the doors.

 

Akihito’s adrenaline is pumping through his veins as he turns round to face the darkness.

 

It seems the Romans have noticed a change because they are no longer heard running; instead they seem to walk forward like predators, slowly and deliberately, so much so that instead of appearing as a group at once, their forms materialize one by one from the darkness in front of Akihito.

 

Despite his nervousness, the young man stands his ground; his sword moving along sideways as the men take shape.

 

“Well, well...” The bigger and better dressed of them says, clearly a high ranking officer. “Is this the best these savages have to offer? Is this what they think a warrior is?” He jokes, looking contemptuously at Akihito and causing the men around him to laugh in unison.

 

“Take out your sword or die standing.” Akihito warns, silencing all for a moment.

    

“Why… the nerve on the brat!” One of the soldiers says, only to be silenced by his superior with a stare.

 

“Very well, kid.” The dark haired man says, unsheathing his sword, twice the size of the youngster’s. “Let’s see how many seconds you’ll last.”

 

Akihito gulps, starting to move in circles, trying to chose an advantageous angle of attack.

 

It’s clear the Roman does not view him as a threat for he's more concerned with grinning towards his men than gripping his sword properly.

 

“Hm…I wonder if I should kill you now or let you live so that you can see me kill all your friends one after the other.”

 

At the words, Akihito lunges forward, sword raised and ready, and to the other man’s surprise he’s so swift and precise in his attack that he nearly causes the Roman to lose the grip on his sword.

 

For sure, the dark haired man is no longer smiling when he turns round to face Akihito again.

 

“Not bad… for a savage.”

 

The comment only spikes Akihito’s anger further, but this time as he lunges forward he misses a step and is easily disarmed by the other man who clutches the youngster's back against his torso in a fierce grip, from which the young man cannot escape.

 

“What are you waiting for, you idiots?” The man yells at the legionaries around them. “Go after the others.”

 

As the soldiers run past them towards the fortress' doors, Akihito continues to trash against the male body which holds him in a death grip to no avail.

 

“Let.Me.Go!” He hisses, hearing the dark-haired man chuckle in return.

 

“Oh, I’m afraid that’s not going to happen kid.“ The Roman whispers huskily against Akihito’s ear. “You’re mine now.” He says, his free hand moving downwards to squeeze Akihito’s groin.

 

The young man's head shoots back instantly, the back of his skull connecting with the Roman’s mouth so fast and unexpectedly that he’s dropped on the floor.

 

The other man is quick to regain control though, punching Akihito in the stomach with such force, the latter falls unconscious on the floor.

 

A lone legionary, arriving late to the party, sees his superior spitting saliva tinted with blood next to the unconscious invader.

 

He pulls out his sword, ready to stab the youth, but his superior stops him.

 

“No. I want this one alive.”  The dark haired man says, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

“But Lieutenant Sakazaki…”

 

“It’s an order. This one’s not to be touched.” Sakazaki says, eyeing the youth with an evil smirk. “I have a feeling General Arbatov will want to have some fun with this one before he has him killed…”

 

(to be continued…)


End file.
